


Minty and Fresh

by 796116311389, Synesthesia_Demon



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 'Captain' is Dirty Talk, A little blow job., Anal Sex, But it was a partner fic and I devolved it into porn., M/M, No established relationship, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spanking, Speaking of dirty talk..., There's lots imo, Well it started with a plot..., Written by two people, also, awkward moments, did I mention there might be cookies?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-18 00:48:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/873806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/796116311389/pseuds/796116311389, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synesthesia_Demon/pseuds/Synesthesia_Demon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who knew methylsalicylate was an aphrodisiac?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Minty and Fresh

**Author's Note:**

> This is a back and forth partner fic written by me and synesthesiademon. She wrote the Sherlock bits and I wrote John. Please enjoy!

The smell was all wrong.

 

After hours of reducing the raw sewage down to its base solids, Sherlock determined that he’d been given a strange sample. The smell of rotting eggs and feces was there, certainly, but another, more peculiar odor was haunting Sherlock’s senses. Mint, he thought, frowning. Why on earth would there be any mint? One would have to stuff the entire city’s septic system with it to even have a ghost of it turn up. His brow furrowed. Perhaps it was a trick of his senses. He walked out of the kitchen and sat on the sofa. His fingers steepled and he stared. Then he sniffed. It was still there! He brought his fingers to his nose, sniffed again, and huffed. It was on his fingers. So there wasn’t anything wrong with the sample.

 

He frowned again. The director of the Department of Health had been the one to hand him the beaker of fluids. That should have tipped him off in the first place. Sherlock then remembered the smell of mint that had been hovering in his office, and the director’s hands being a bit slippery. Joint cream, he’d thought, but the director showed no signs of arthritis or any other painful injuries that would require it.

 

So why had his hands been covered in it? 

 

Tesco bags in hand John trudged up the stairs to his and Sherlock’s flat. As he got closer and closer though, the more he wanted to go back downstairs. There was a horrid odor wafting out of the kitchen door. John steeled his nostrils against the smell and walked into the kitchen. 

 

“Oh God, Sherlock! What the hell is that? Is that rotting eggs? God, it smells like the sewer.” John set the Tesco bags down and walked over to the kitchen window, opening it. John walked to the sitting room and eyed Sherlock calmly sitting on the sofa without a trace of discomfort from the stink. “Sherlock,” John kept his voice even, “why does our flat smell like sewer? You know what, actually, don’t answer that. Can you please make it go away?” He finished his sentence with a dramatic tossing of his arms in exasperation. 

 

“Not a moment too soon, John,” he said, neatly leaping up to clear the kitchen of the experiment and the residual foul odor. “I think I may have found the killer. Almost had me fooled, almost. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. Methylsalicylate, common in joint creams, deadly in amounts higher than 10 grams. The director of the D of H had it on his hands when he passed me the sample of sewage, yes,” he added, as John’s jaw dropped in horror, “Yes it was sewage, I’m cleaning it, aren’t I? Hush. Now he had the ointment on his hands but that was not what he used to poison our victim. He only put it on because he couldn’t get the smell off his hands. Since he has no detectable joint troubles or injuries there is no possible reason why it should be there in such high doses. If you recall all our victims had a partially chewed stick of spearmint gum in their mouths when they were found. It was used to cover the smell of the methylsalicylate. I have to wonder why they never checked to see whose saliva it was.” He finished rinsing the petri dish and equipment, turned and leaned his back against the sink. “Perhaps it belongs to the killer. Perhaps it can be used to put him away! Yes!” he shouted, now pacing the kitchen. 

 

John’s eyes tracked Sherlock’s movements. As usual he was amazed by his flatmate’s deductions, so much so that he just blurted, “Brilliant!” as soon as Sherlock shut his mouth. Sherlock gave him that half grin that only John got to see. Only there was one thing that John didn’t get.

 

“Sherlock? You could smell the cream over the rest of the sewer smell in here? Which, thank you by the way for cleaning that up.” John nodded to the now clean petri dishes and sniffed decisively at the quickly freshening air. “I just don’t smell it.” He took a step closer towards Sherlock and the science equipment and sniffed again in an attempt to suss out the smell of mint. Then another step closer to the detective, still sniffing. He could smell the detective’s natural overwhelming scent, but still no mint.

 

“That would be because it wasn’t in the sewage. It was on my hands,” he said, extending his arm to dangle his fingers under John’s nose. When John recoiled, Sherlock sighed dramatically. “No reason to be disgusted, I wore gloves through the entire process. Except for actually obtaining the sample, but then it was double sealed to prevent disease and leaks. It is not going to kill you to sniff my fingers.”

 

John leaned in cautiously and sniffed the detective’s fingers. Indeed, they smelled like mint. Mint cookies. John was suddenly struck with an awkward desire to lean forward and take Sherlock’s fingers into his mouth. Clenching his teeth, he jerked backwards. It was too late, though, he knew Sherlock would have seen the whole thought process on his face. All he could do know was look at Sherlock with his face flushed and his mouth watering.

 

“Goodness, John, is it that strong?” He cocked an eyebrow, hiding a smirk as best as he could. “Perhaps it would be, after having to smell all the rot that was here before.” He crossed his arms. “Hmm. I’ll see if I can’t remove it.” He drummed his fingers on his left forearm, watching as John’s gaze slowly shifted to them. Fascinating. He let him stare for a bit before suddenly saying, “Any suggestions?” A blush coloured John’s startled cheeks. “To get rid of the smell,” he added. When he shrugged, Sherlock turned and headed to the washroom.

 

John watched as Sherlock walked down to the washroom, not entirely sure what just happened there. Oh, God. I wanted to lick Sherlock’s fingers. His brain stuttered with an odd tingle of arousal at the thought. Light panic filled him which only encouraged the feeling of arousal shooting through him. He knew. Oh, God I wanted to put my mouth on him and he just shrugged it off, no, he flirted with me. John swallowed, his mouth suddenly very dry and his head confused as all his blood started rushing south. He was suddenly very hot and alarmed at how quick this was escalating for him and Sherlock wasn’t even in the room.

 

Well, he could fix that last bit.

 

John walked down the hall. It wasn’t obvious quite yet how turned on he was by the thought of kissing Sherlock, and Oh, well shit, where did that thought come from? He calmly approached the washroom door and knocked. 

 

Do not overreact.

 

Sherlock clenched his hands on the side of the sink, staring into the basin. Cool as he might be inside, his body would not cooperate. For once, he wished his mind were out of control, instead of his hands, his legs, and his heartbeat. He’s not sure what he’s doing, he tried to tell himself, it’s just the methylsalicylate. It must be affecting his mind. It might just be an accidental aphrodisiac. He doesn’t know...okay. Pull yourself together. Act natural and nothing will happen. He straightened up and opened the door. “Yes, John? Is there a problem?”

 

John dithered for all of a second before clumsily propelling himself forward and into a kiss with a Sherlock. Well, not really a kiss. He missed half of Sherlock’s mouth and he misjudged how hard he’s moved forward and, really, it’s more like he’s mashed their teeth together and their lips just happened to be in the way. The kiss slam throws them slightly off balance and Sherlock has to catch himself on the sink, otherwise they’d go down. John pulls back. His face is flushed red all the way to the tips of his ears. He looks equal parts mortified and giddy.

 

“I-uh, I-well, hunh. I’m not sure why I-” John mumbled. He looked at Sherlock and then looked at the door to the bathroom. He briefly considered running away, but in for a penny in for a pound. He turned his face back to Sherock, his posture becoming more solid and grounded.

 

“Dash it all,” mumbled Sherlock before cupping the back of John’s neck and pressing their lips together again, this time in a long, lustful, real kiss. He braced one arm above John on the door jamb and pinned him against the door. The hand behind John’s neck slid to the small of his back, then down to his arse, then his thigh so he could pull his leg up and wrap it around his waist. Open-mouthed kissing turned into Sherlock trying to jam his tongue down John’s throat, and John responding positively. Sherlock felt the jab of John’s cock beneath his trousers and pressed his own half-grown erection against his. The strangled groan that John emitted shot it up to full length, and he groaned a bit as it strained under his clothes. “Oh you sexy thing, John,” he growled. His voice deepened with a soft rasp as he breathed into John’s ear, “You positively sexy thing.” Sherlock licked his ear from the lobe to the top, before wiggling it inside.

 

Everything John thought Sherlock would be, Sherlock wasn’t. Where he thought there’d be angles, there were curves, and where he thought would be soft, was hard, delightfully hard. John groaned frustratedly, there was so much he wanted to do, but his brain was so shot with pleasure , that he couldn’t articulate anything. Sherlock’s attention to his neck had left the detective’s own neck open and inviting.

 

John lowered his lips to Sherlock’s neck and kissed gently. Slowly he trailed his lips, darting his tongue out to tease here and there. When he nipped Sherlock , though, that was the real prize. Sherlck let out a low guttaral moan. John chuckled, “Liked that, yeah?” and nipped Shrlock again, eliciting another of those sinfully wonderful low moans. How had he lived with Sherlock all this time without hearing those wonderful noises?

 

His hips jerked of their own accord, desperate for more and this was quickly becoming more heated than John thought possible, hell, probably more than he could handle. His breaths were coming out in pants and that’s when Sherlock decided to move back to John’s mouth. John, however, was determined to be in control this time. He trailed his tongue along Sherlock’s lower lip and was granted entry into Sherlock’s mouth. John could taste only Sherlock and briefly wondered when the last time was Sherlock ate, but that train of thought ended abruptly as Sherlock rolled his hips into John, pressing together their straining, clothed erections. John kissed Sherlock a moment more before pulling back, which embarrassingly caused John to whimper. Sherlock smirked, apparently pleased with the effect he had on John.

 

“Want to take this down the hall?” John asked, his voice deep and rough. 

 

He let out a short breath of a laugh. “Obviously.”

 

Once down the hall and in Sherlock’s bedroom, Sherlock had only two seconds before John clambered on top of him on the bed. He had him by the front of his purple shirt, and the buttons threatened to pop with the force of John’s grip. So Sherlock pressed himself close, twisting his legs around John’s so they were tangled together. He slid his hand between them to palm John’s cock and knuckle-brush his own. He heard John bite back a moan, but he let his roll from his throat. His fingers wiggled as he worked the buttons of John’s trousers. That’s when John did moan, and he grabbed his hand and jerked it from between them.

 

“No,” he said, narrowing his eyes at Sherlock. “No, you don’t get to do that yet.” He leaned tantalizingly close, close enough for Sherlock to lift his head and kiss him again. But Sherlock found himself being held down by the right shoulder. A shiver tickled up his spine, even as he struggled against him. John’s other hand plucked each of Sherlock’s buttons undone, sliding his fingers down the centre of his chest as he went. Sherlock twitched.

 

“God, John, at least let me help-” He was cut off by his own yelp, then a moan as his nipple was tweaked, a little harder than he’d expected. He squeezed his eyes shut and arched into John’s hand, but he was pushed down again.

 

“No, and I mean it.” John whispered roughly into Sherlock’s ear, giving him a soft kiss as well. Sherlock grunted in frustration, but stopped trying to press forward into John. John sat up and looked down at the man beneath him, flushed and strained, desperate for his touch. John was going to enjoy this. He was going to touch every inch of Sherlock, tease him until every gentle caress and casual touch left him crying for him, calling out his name. John licked his lips. Where do I even begin? He placed his hand on the side of Sherlock’s face and trailed his fingers over Sherlock’s lips, which Sherlock immediately tried to take into his mouth. John didn’t let him, which had Sherlock give out a cry, “Oh, for the love of- John! Stop dawdl-” His complaint was cut off though as John dropped his head and sucked on one of Sherlock’s nipples. Sherlock let out a low moan and John grinned to himself. Time to experiment a little. John gave Sherlock a light nip, making Sherlock squirm. Then he actually bit, not enough to hurt, but definitely enough to make Sherlock arch into him, which he did, while also letting out a swear.

 

John brought his other hand up and played with Sherlock’s other nipple while he continued to work the other with his mouth. Then to up the ante (and show how spectacularly coordinated he was) he added random little hip rolls into the mix. Hopefully, Sherlock was enjoying this as much as he was. Well, if the noises Sherlock was making were anything to go by, he was.

 

Sweat began to bead on Sherlock’s forehead, and he couldn’t seem to get his mind to work. Every push of John’s hips rubbed against the head of is clothed cock. Every brush of his fingertips on his lips made him want to take them in his mouth and suck on them. Sherlock’s toes were curling in his shoes. And when John switched his mouth to his other nipple, he clenched a hand into the bed sheets. “J-John, please, John please please please John please...”

 

John’s kisses travelled back up his neck and to his ear. “Please...what...Sherlock?” he felt John whisper.

 

Sherlock whimpered and thrashed his head until his face was held in place, so John could press closer and repeat, “Please...what...?”

 

“T-touch me, please. Touch me please, John, please!” When John gave him a look, he swallowed. “Please, please touch my cock, John.” Please, John, please, touch it, stroke it, I need you to, please, he thought as John’s hand slipped open the button on Sherlock’s trousers. Sherlock felt his finger stroke one long, light line up his shaft through his pants. He barely resisted the urge to thrust into it. That finger then circled the head of his prick in a spiral until ghosting over the slit at the top. There was a damp spot and John rolled his finger in it. John put that finger to Sherlock’s lips. 

 

“Suck my finger, Sherlock.” John’s voice was lower, much lower than Sherlock had ever heard it before, but the tone. That was John’s Captain tone and John had never dared use it on Sherlock before, mostly because he had thought it wouldn’t have any effect. Oh, how wrong he was.

 

John watched as Sherlock obediently took his finger in his mouth. A decadent warmth. John could only imagine what it would be like to have that wet heat around his cock, .Sherlock using that wicked tongue, which only usually gave out scathing retorts and brilliant deductions, to tease him and swirl about much like he was doing now to his fingers. John let out a low groan as Sherlock gently dragged his teeth along John’s finger. John gave him an accusatory stare, even though he wasn’t entirely sure he was accusing Sherlock of doing. Being a sexy fuck? John’s skin was heated and he could feel a sweat breaking out across his shoulders and forehead. 

 

That’s when it hit him, “Why are we still clothed?” He had meant for it to be a thought, but instead he said it aloud, his voice a low growl. An honest question of confusion turned to one of seduction purely because of lust.

 

“Tut tut, John, took you that long to figure it out?” Sherlock smirked, giving John’s finger a final sultry swirl before he pulled it back. He felt the thump! on his backside and John roughly dragging him up.

 

“Cheeky little wanker! I might have to spank you proper for that.” Sherlock’s eyebrows shot up. Spank him? He fought to keep his lips from twisting into a gleeful grin, but only managed to keep it to a slight twitch of a smile. But John noticed, and he cocked his head.

 

“Get these trousers off, and that shirt of yours. Now. Don’t make me ask you again.”

 

“Yes, John,” he replied teasingly, fingering the loops and sliding them down, slowly.

 

Then John was back in his face, a hair’s width between their noses. Sherlock tried to step back but John caught him by the belt loops and yanked him forward again.

 

“That’s Captain to you.”

 

Sherlock gulped, kicked off his trousers, and slid out of his shirt. “Yes, Captain.” He was then spun around to face the bed, and he felt a splayed hand in the middle of his back bend him over. He braced himself up until he felt a tap at each elbow. All the way down? he thought as he flattened himself, turning his head to the side. John’s hand then pulled his hips up and out. Sherlock felt like he was on display for him, and the thought sent a twitch straight through to his cock. His hands rubbed against his arse cheeks through his pants, and squeezed them hard enough to make him gasp.

 

John reveled in the sight that was Sherlock’s arse. It was delightfully supple in distinct contrast to the rest of his body. John oogled a moment more before resuming his plan. He had caught the smirk Sherlock had tried to hide from him at the mention of John spanking him. John was going do exactly what Sherlock wanted and then tease him with denial.

 

“Sherlock. I’m going to punish you for your comment earlier. I’m going to spank you and you are going to count each one out loud. If I don’t hear you, I start over. If you come in your pants before I’ve had a chance to take them off of you, I’ll walk away. You won’t get to touch me and,” John leaned next to Sherlock and looked into his eyes, his voice low, “I know how badly you want to touch me. How badly you want me squirming beneath you, telling you just how amazing I think you are, as I paint us both with my come. So, do you understand?”

 

Dear god, was his only thought before replying, “Yes, Captain.” Dear god, was his only thought as John brought his hand down on his arse with a heavy thwack!

 

“One,” he grunted.

 

Thwack!

 

“Two.”

 

Thwack!

 

“Three.” Sherlock’s cock throbbed.

 

Thwack!

 

“Four!” he groaned, fisting the bed sheets.

 

There was a pause. “You like that, Sherlock? Hmm?”

 

“Yes, Captain,” he said with a waver in his voice.

 

“Stick your arse out more.”

 

Sherlock immediately complied, practically getting on his tip-toes.

 

Thwack!

 

Sherlock shook, resisting the urge to rub his thigh over his needy cock.

 

“Sherlock? You’ve stopped counting.” He tsked. “Start over.”

 

Sherlock gasped. He didn’t know if he could take much more. His cock was dripping and he was aching to come in his pants. They were already soaked in the front with precum. Now, though, John yanked said pants to his ankles and smacked his bare bottom.

 

“Hnngh! One!”

 

“Louder, Sherlock.” Thwack!

 

“Two!” Sherlock bit into the sheets now.

 

Thwack!

 

“Three! Oh god...oh god!”

 

“Are you cumming, Sherlock?” asked John. Thwack!

 

“No, Captain, no, I’m not.” Not yet, not yet, but I might soon, bloody hell, I might soon.

Thwack! “Good.”

 

“Four! Hnngh!” Sherlock’s balls tightened and he bit his lip hard, determined not to splatter the sheets with cum yet.

 

Thwack!

 

“F-five!” he moaned. He pushed back into John’s hands as he rubbed his hot, pinked backside. He panted and nearly slumped forward. His cock popped up against his belly as John gave his arse a light squeeze.

 

Everything John thought he knew about Sherlock had gone out the window. His normally asexual flatmate, who rejected everyone’s advances, was bent over and John was spanking him. 

 

John choked back a moan as he gently caressed Sherlock’s backside, fantasising about spreading those pale round cheeks and fucking him senseless. The thought went straight to his cock which strained against the fabric of his pants and trousers. But Sherlock still needed five more spanks. John needed to give Sherlock five more spanks.

 

John brought his hand down hard on Sherlock’s bare arse with a satisfying thwack.

 

“Six!” Sherlock moaned low.

 

Thwack.

 

“Oh, ungh- Seven!” Sherlock choked out. John moaned at the sound of Sherlock struggling to keep himself in control. John had an idea of how to reward Sherlock after his punishment, to reward himself for keeping in control. He brought his hand down again.

 

Thwack.

 

“Eight!” Sherlock yelled, before trailing off into a whimper. John hoped he held out.

 

Thwack.

 

“Nngh-ine!” Sherlock was writhing, aching for John to touch him, stroke him, anything. John was loving every moment of this. Just one more, Sherlock, oh God, just one more. John’s skin felt tight. He was overly conscious of every pull of his clothing. He raised his hand and brought it down.

 

THWACK.

 

“T-T-TEN!” Sherlock cried out, his whole body trembling. John was pleased that Sherlock had managed to hold on, if only barely. Sherlock panted into the bed in front of him. Time for the reward. John stripped his shirt from his top half and threw it on the floor and then peeled his trousers off, followed shortly by his pants. His hard cock jutting out in front of him. John laid onto his back onto the bed next to Sherlock. Sherlock’s eyes were wide and his pupils were blown. He panted into the bed and looked into John’s eyes. John smiled at his look of confusion, apparently still reeling from his ‘punishment’.

 

“Sherlock. It’s time for a reward.” John whispered gently. Sherlock stared. “Sherlock, I want you to ride me.”

 

Everything stopped for a moment. Had he heard him correctly? When John gestured to him, Sherlock blinked, then pushed himself up on wobbly arms. “Y-yes Captain,” he whimpered.

 

“First though, you’ve got to lube up a bit. Can’t have you hurting yourself now.” John tangled his fingers in his hair and brought Sherlock’s face down to his crotch. “Suck on it a bit. Wet me up.”

 

“Yes, Captain.” Sherlock flattened his tongue to lick up the shaft, marvelling at the sheer length of it. God, that was going to feel amazing inside him. His tongue swirled around the head, tasting a bit of salt as precum dribbled out of it. Sherlock closed his eyes and relished the taste, taking the whole head in his mouth and slowly sliding down. He gagged before he could reach the base, but John didn’t seem to mind. He just pulled Sherlock’s head up and patted his cheek.

 

“There, now, I think that’s enough.” Sherlock leaned into his hand as his cheek was stroked. “Ride me, Sherlock.”

 

“Yes, Captain.” Sherlock climbed over John, pressing his hands into the bed on either side of John’s head. He reached behind him to hold John’s cock but John shook his head and tapped it against Sherlock’s backside; he had it ready for him. Sherlock rocked back a bit until he could feel the head poking between his cheeks, then slowly sank down. John’s hand stopped him halfway and asked if he was alright, but Sherlock just nodded. 

 

The stretching, the feel of John’s cock brushing his muscles inside, they were heady and delicious and he wanted more. He pushed down until he was completely seated. He rocked forward a bit and moaned. Oh thank god he’d held out. Sherlock bent forward to lean over John, rose up, then slammed down again. John’s cock hit him in all the right places and Sherlock let out a hoarse cry. John’s moans made his prick slap up against his belly again. He brought himself down on John over and over, squeezing his muscles inside so they tightened around John’s cock. He could feel him thrusting back, and it was enough to make him want to splatter them both with his cum.

 

“Oh, yes, Captain! Oh yes, oh yes!” he groaned, throwing his head back and John hit his prostate over and over, and he rode the waves of pleasure as hard as he was riding John himself.

 

“You ready?” panted John, and Sherlock glanced down at him. “You ready for this? Because...I’m gonna cum...so bloody hard. I’m gonna...fill your arse up...gonna pump you full of it...in a few seconds...so you better...hurry up and cum... Cum for me...Sherlock... do it now!” he barked.

 

And it was at that moment that his body couldn’t take anymore. Sherlock let out a howl that, if they had actually cared, would have woken the neighbors three streets down. His cries and moans stuttered as he shot ropes of cum onto John’s chest, cutting in and out with each spurt.

 

The feeling of Sherlock coming was exquisite. Sherlock’s muscles clenched around his cock, with tight, hot pressure. John was gone. As Sherlock shot cum all over his chest he filled Sherlock’s arse with his own hot cum. He rode his orgasm out under Sherlock, seeing stars. God, oh God! It’s never even been like this with any of my girlfriends! Oh!

 

Sherlock fell against his chest, spent, and gently chuckling. John could feel Sherlock’s laugh and it took him a moment to realize that he must have said his thought out loud. John began chuckling along with Sherlock.

 

“That- that was amazing.” John said with a kiss to the top of Sherlock’s head. Sherlock sighed into John’s chest. John could feel Sherlock’s come between them and did not mind in the least, rather he liked the feeling. It was gross and raw, but it was Sherlock and somehow that made it okay. Sherlock brought one of his hands up to John’s face and rubbed John’s hair. John got a whiff of mint and started giggling. Sherlock pushed up onto his elbows and looked down at John, his face showing only indignation.

 

“What?” Sherlock searched John’s face for a reason for his mirth, but it only made John giggle harder. Sherlock waited for John to calm a moment.

 

“Your hands.” John said with a smile.

 

“What about them?” Sherlock looked at his hands.

 

“The mint smell. It’s just, I think it’s funny that this all started, because I thought your hands smelled like Mint Cookies.”

**Author's Note:**

> Like what you read here? Then follow us on Tumblr!  
> http://synesthesiademon.tumblr.com/ is synthesia's account and she posts some really wonderful smut every Friday for Penis Friday. I really can't do her enough justice describing her blog, so just go follow her! She's awesome!
> 
> http://quailisthestatebird.tumblr.com/ is my account and I blog Sherlock, Dr. Who, Benedict Cumberbatch and Science everyday and all day (and one of these days I'll get around to actually making posts of my own instead of reblogging all the time, lol)


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